Aswan

Aswan is down the Nile from Luxor. In Pharaonic times, Aswan marked the end of Egypt Proper and the beginning of Nubia, the stretch of riverine land stretching south from Aswan along the Nile to what is today Khartoum in the Sudan.

Nubia is to Egypt what Ireland is to England- over its long history, the region, with a distinct African ethnicity and culture, has been a rival kingdom, an unequal partner, or a vassal province of Pharaonic Egypt, depending on the strength of the kings in Thebes (Luxor). Aswan is still a stronghold of the Egyptian Nubians, whose numbers were bolstered since the 1960s when several Nubian communities migrated north to Aswan from their traditional lands- which were being drowned by the building of the Aswan High Dam.

More on this in later posts. In fact, most of Egyptian Nubia now lies under Lake Nasser, the huge reservoir created by the Dam. Google "Three Gorges Dam" for a similar tale taking place in China.

Arab Egyptians look on the Nubians in the same way the English still look upon the Irish. Most Arabs in the Nubian region go to great pains to make visitors understand that they are not Nubians, who are implicitly indicated to exist a few rungs lower down on the hierarchy of races.

Lies. Lies. Lies.

Aswan contained a Nubian museum displaying artifacts from its drowned lands, and a cultural center where you could watch traditional dances and get your hands and feet encircled in henna patterns. But I made absolutely no attempt to explore Nubian culture, yielding instead to a heat-induced apathy, and spent most of my time in Aswan at the local sheesha parlor waiting for the sun to set.

In fact, the only thing I discovered of note about the Nubians is that they lie with greater ease and frequency that the Arabs. This did nothing to debunk my Racial Scale of Untrustworthiness, in which, using quantitative evidence garnered from four continents and a dozen countries, I hypothesize that the number of lies told by the average person is positively correlated with the darkness of his skin.

Nubians are just as proud as Arabs to distingush their separateness as a culture, but any assertion I heard to this effect was in the context of tourist touting. A Nubian vendor would respond to accusations of lying or cheating with: "But, sir! I am a Nubian!"- which is akin to saying; "But sir, I am a Nazi!" to a charge of anti-semetism.

This is something called "caster". It is probably the greatest thing that has happened to me since I discovered Irish punk. It's a pastry made of cream and flour, doused with a layer of sugar, and then drowned in hot milk.

A week ago, I read on the BBC that there were angry murmurs on the Egyptian street about the rising cost of bread. The cost of grain is rising worldwide, due to, among other things, rising demand resulting from ethanol-based fuels, rising global population, and folk in rising developing economies like China and India having more funds to buy bread. The average Egyptian's purchasing power is decreasing because of Egypt's stagnant economy, and there is huge pressure on the government to keep the price of bread heavily subsidized.

The result: bread line-ups that hand out pita-shaped loaves at a government-sponsored price. Every town's lower-income population will wait in line every morning, buying as much as they can, because the price is only going to rise here on out. People waddle away from the lines carrying reed trays stacked with bread balanced on their heads.

This is the Unfinished Obelisk- the largest piece of stone ever quarried by human hands. It weighs 1168 tons, and is 42m long- a mute testament to an ancient engineering genius we can only guess at. God alone know what it would have been used for- except that when three out of four sides had been cut, the masons discovered a fault running through the stone, rendering the monstrosity useless.

Elephantine Island, home to a couple of small Nubian villages, water-level measurers from pharaonic times, and... oh what? You can't see it? There's a cruise ship in the way.

You're telling me.

Every time something like this happens, I have this internal shouting match about the pros and cons of accessible, cheap, mass tourism ruining pristine natural areas with huge ecological or cultural significance. I hate having thousands of gringos ruin my romanticized musings at the Pyramids- except that I'm one of them. I hate seeing a dozen cruise ships block my view of the Nile's sapphire sheen- except that the rules that permit their presence also allow mine.

If the Valley of the Kings was allowed only to archaeologists and Aswan only to cultural anthropologists (and locals), those areas would retain their mystical solitudes, preserved solely for those for whom their existences are a vocation or a heritage. On the other hand, the vast majority of us would never have the chance to experience or learn about these wonders, however shallowly or fleetingly.

There has to be a balance between the two.

I had intended to put a hair-raising rant about the hassling that occured on Aswan waterfront involving 16 Nubians in a 400m stretch of pavement attempting to lure, cajole, plead, demand, and infuriate me into boarding their boats- or "feluccas"- for a "sunset cruise to Elephantine! I give you good price! I am Nubian! Sir! Why you walk away? Why you angry? WHY YOU ANGRY!"

But that would be flogging a long-dead horse.

This is Ferial Gardens at the end of the waterfront, the city's one concession to an unobstructed view of the Nile and its environs without having to pay for a cruise ship or board a felucca.

At the entrance, I put down a 20 pound bill to pay the 5 pound entrance fee. The Nubian at the gate surruptitiously shut a drawer containing wads of change and informed me in broken English: "No change. You give me 20 pounds now, and I give you change later."

My response involved the phrase "You shit-colored worm", and ended with me pulling the drawer of change open, changing my own money, and then walking in.

Tree.


Boat.

Boats.

The boat on the bottom right is actually two boats sailing side by side, filled with tourists. Aboard, the Nubian crews led their passengers in a rousing chorus of drum-driven Nubian music, which unlike the undulating tones of Arab "Habibi" ballads, are lively, rhythmic, major-scale African numbers, full of foot-stomping, hand-clapping, and "Ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya!" chants that drifted up raucously from the twilit waters.

Sunset.